A Night On The Town
by Keesha
Summary: Callen drives Hetty home after a night on the town but come next morning...Character driven, heavy on dialogue, light on action, time sequence is after Deeks joins but before Nell.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

The streetlights pulsed the inside of the car from light to dark in a rhythmic pattern, which was strangely relaxing after the noisy nightclub. Traffic was light at this time of night, allowing the car to travel uninhibited towards its destination. Anyone who happened to glance in the vehicle might speculate about the odd pairing in the front seat. The driver was classically handsome with a strong jaw line, short-cropped hair, and piercing blue eyes. Late thirties, maybe forties, he was lean and fit. The passenger, on the other hand, was old school proper, English bob, glasses, and the perfectly matched outfit with the requisite pin. Not a classic beauty, her face spoke of wisdom, strength, and determination. Though hard to pinpoint, one would surmise her age to be on the north side of 60. From casual observance, the only thing the two people in the car appeared to have in common was stature; they were both shorter than the norm for their gender. While the man was only a few inches under 6 ft, the woman, whether from age or genetics, was quite diminutive.

What brought the two of them to be in a car together at this time of the night? Was this a May - December romance carried out in the wee hours of the darkness? Favorite Auntie and nephew on the way home from a family outing? If one were to guess work colleagues on their way home from a social gathering, they would be correct though they would never guess the line of work these two shared.

The woman broke the silence that had ensued since departing the club. "Thank you for the ride home, Mr. Callen. I do not understand what happened to my car."

"If Kensi could not get the car started it must be major issue. She can hotwire a tank. I think you are looking at a major repair bill. And," he continued offering her his trademark half-smile, "no problem on the chauffer service, Boss."

"It does take you out of your way, assuming, of course, you are planning to sleep in the office as usual."

Callen gave a quick noncommittal shrug.

"Are you making any progress on finding a new place?" Hetty inquired even though she already knew the answer.

"Sam and I did look at an apartment the other day but it was…"

"Let me guess," Hetty interrupted. "Too hot? Cold? Noisy? Quiet? Ceilings too high? Smell funny? Street too busy? Not enough body building, scantily clad, lunatics running around like at your Venice beach pad?"

"Nope," Callen replied seriously. "None of the above."

"Well I do give up then. What was the issue?" she asked perplexed.

A sly smile crept across G's face. "The apartment complex was next to a medical facility."

"I see," Hetty replied in a voice that clearly stated she did not see. "And you didn't think, given your preponderance for injury, that this might be a good thing?"

"Needles Hetty. You know I hate needles."

"And were you under the impression that every time you walked by the clinic someone was going to chase after you with a needle?" she asked her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Just the thought of living that close to a place with so many needles," Callen shook his head mournfully, "I couldn't do it."

Hetty sighed and turned to look out the window at the shadowy shapes passing in the night. A few minutes of silence passed before she spoke again. "Are you speeding Mr. Callen?"

He gave her a sideways glance.

"You have gotten a few tickets you know," she continued as the scenery whizzed by.

"Yes, I am aware of the fact I have gotten one or two tickets.

"Try eight."

"Four."

"Eight."

"Six. Two were totally bogus," he replied indigently.

"Humph. And that last light you sailed through was it perhaps reddish?"

"No," Callen shot back. "Besides, there is no such thing as reddish." A small frown creased Callen's brow as surveyed his side and rear mirrors again.

"Ah. So you did learn something in traffic school. But that light, it wasn't green," she pointed out.

"There is yellow, Hetty. I distinctively remember them teaching us a traffic light had three colors. Red, green and yellow or amber if you prefer."

"Amber," she snorted. "Not for the cautious driver. For the cautious driver there is only red, for stop and green for go."

Callen scowled at her before glancing in the rear view mirror again. Part of his mind scanned the lanes behind him analyzing the traffic pattern while the other half of his mind wondered how he had won this assignment to chauffeur her home.

Momentarily satisfied with his traffic analysis, Callen decided to change the direction of the conversation by going on the offensive. "Big purse," he noted wryly.

"Do you think so?" Hetty replied studying it. "I think it's just the right size."

"For what? A slumber party? Carrying groceries? Backpacking in the Alps? What do you carry in there that it needs to be so big?" he pursued, hopefully to distract her from his driving.

"Ah, the mystery of a woman's purse," she said knowingly. "The handbag that a woman chooses to carry says much about her. It speaks of her commitment to life. Her sense of style. The self-worth she feels. Her origins. And of course her hopes and dreams."

"From a purse? You can divine all that about a woman from her purse?" he questioned in disbelief

"You would be surprised," she replied smugly.

Callen glanced at the purse wondering what it was supposed to be telling him about Hetty.

"Eyes on the road, Mr. Callen. We don't want you flipping another vehicle."

"That was one time," he replied, annoyed that Hetty had maneuvered the conversation back to driving.

"Don't you mean once under my watch? I do seem to recall somewhere in your file you have destroyed more than one car in your career."

"Some don't count," he countered looking in the rearview mirror again to study the patterns. "They were part of the job," he added, though it was clear he was distracted.

"And the time you drove the car onto that boat?"

"The time I …what are you talking about? I never did that," Callen said focusing back on her. He paused a beat, and then narrowed his eyes. "Hey, wait a second. That was a movie!" he replied indignantly. However, his concentration quickly shifted as his eyes darted back to check the mirrors once more before sliding over to glance at his passenger who was smirking. "You're yanking my chain Hetty."

"I do not 'yank' people's chains, Mr. Callen. But perhaps I was joshing you a bit," she conceded.

Callen did a quick mirror check before giving her his half grin. "Have fun tonight Boss?"

"Yes, even without a mechanical bull."

"And no fights."

"Indeed, no fights," she whole-heartedly agreed.

"Nobody got that drunk tonight, well except maybe Nate." Another mirror check caused another slight frown to flit across his face.

"Yes, Mr. Getz was a tad bit inebriated."

"Kensi is driving him home."

"And what about you, Mr. Callen?" Hetty questioned.

"What about me?" Callen answered distractedly.

"Oh I could go on for hours about you. But in this case, I am referring to your state of intoxication."

"Are you asking me if I am drunk?" he replied. After spending a few more seconds watching the mirrors, he made a series of swift lane changes.

"I know you are not flat out drunk or I never would have agreed for you to drive. But first you speed, next you run red lights and now you seem to be weaving," she finished as they made another particularly sharp turn. "We have a tail?" she stated flatly.

"We have a tail," he confirmed making another succession of maneuvers, which led them into a derelict section of warehouses.

Reaching in the center console, Callen pulled his gun out and laid it in the open compartment between them. Next, he patted his pockets checking for his cell phone. "Damn," he swore when he was unable to locate it.

Hetty looked at him quizzically.

"I can't find my phone. It is gone," he growled clearly unhappy about the situation.

"Oh, Mr. Callen. Please don't tell me you lost another phone," she scolded mournfully. "Phones are expensive to replace."

"Look could you save the lecture for later? We're in a little situation here. Where's your phone?"

"Yes, we will discuss this later," Hetty declared as she dug her phone out of her oversized purse. "Huh," she said after glancing at it. She then proceeded to put it away.

"What's wrong?" Callen demanded as he instituted another set of evasive maneuvers.

"It would seem my battery is dead as a door nail."

Incredibility colored his voice. "Your battery is dead? The always prepared Hetty's phone battery is dead?"

"I'm not infallible you know," she said wounded.

Callen could not stop a chuckle from escaping even though they were without a means of communicating their precarious situation to anyone. It was too much fun catching his boss unprepared. He only wished he had more time to enjoy it. Unfortunately, now was not the time with the mystery SUV gaining on them no longer attempting to hide.

"Uh-oh," Callen said glancing at an indicator light, which flickered on the dashboard.

"Another problem?" she asked with curiosity.

Callen nodded curtly. "We're almost out of gas."

"Those lights come on well in advance of the tank going dry. Surely you have a few gallons left."

"That might have been true the first time the light came on but, uh, I have been ignoring …" he replied his voice trailing off.

"Now who needs to prepare better?" she admonished.

"Prepare? We were only going out for drinks. I planned to get gas tomorrow."

"You know the Boy Scout's motto."

"Actually, I don't. You have to stay in one place for activities like Boy Scouts". 'And,' he added silently, 'have someone who cares enough about you to take you.' Silence settled over the car while Callen contemplated their next move.

"We're going to ditch the car," he said scanning the surrounding area, which did not look very promising. They were in a derelict section of town full of abandon warehouses and other abandon, rundown buildings. With an unexpected burst of speed, the tailing vehicle pulled close to the rear of the silver Mercedes and shot out one of the rear tires. The Mercedes skidded sideways as Callen wrestled the wheel to get it under control. Seeing a large warehouse on the right, he attempted to turn the sliding car into the parking lot. Halfway through the skid-turn, another shot rang out taking out a second tire. The Mercedes spun totally out of control slamming into the side of the brick building. The airbags deployed and for a moment, the inside of the car went white.

The black SUV pulled into the lot coming to a stop facing them about 100 feet away. Ominously, all four doors slowly swung open.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Callen started re-evaluating their situation as soon as the deployed air bag deflated, clearing his field of vision. He decided there must be at least four people in the SUV since all the doors opened at the same time. A quick look around his vehicle told him it was not moving anywhere, anytime soon. A swift glance at his passenger showed she did not appeared injured. "You good?" he asked following protocol.

"I'm good," she answered, though her voice sounded a little shaky. "And you?"

"I'm good." He glanced out the rear passenger window and noted the entryway to the massive building they smacked into was only a few feet away. "Can you get your door open?"

"Yes, I believe I can," she said trying the handle then gently pushing outward.

"Stay low. Head into the warehouse. The car will give you coverage. We'll look for a place to make a stand in there. Out here we're sitting ducks." He hesitated, "The warehouse door is probably locked."

"Not an issue," Hetty said grabbing her purse as she slipped out of the car. "I can handle that."

"I'll bet you can. Probably have a lock pick in that suitcase of a purse," he muttered under his breath as he looked at the SUV to see what was transpiring.

"I heard that, Mr. Callen," the disembodied voice of Hetty replied as she disappeared into the night.

The men in the other car were staying out of sight, giving him no clear shots. He cracked open his door and using it as a shield, quickly pumped a number of rounds at the SUV trying to flush them out. The SUV occupants returned the favor with their own salvos.

Callen slid the rest of the way out of the car and keeping a low profile scurried towards the rear of the Mercedes. To his surprise, out of the dark, to the side of the Mercedes, a shot rang out.

'Damn', Callen thought. 'One of them must have flanked me.' The unforeseen bullet ripped through Callen's right thigh, slamming him back against the car. His wounded leg buckled beneath him and he dropped his gun trying to break his fall. Another round of shots came out of the dark at him and Callen flattened himself to the ground.

As always happened in these situations, adrenaline kicked in and Callen didn't think; he instinctively acted. Pushing himself off the ground but keeping a low profile, he limped towards the warehouse doorway, pushing the pain to the rear of his consciousness. A barrage of shots came from the vicinity of the warehouse door as Hetty laid down coverage for her wounded agent.

Once Callen cleared the doorway, Hetty ducked back in, slamming the door shut. Callen leant against the wall breathing hard.

"How bad is it?" she asked with concern.

Callen ignored her, working to control his breathing. His eyes swept their new surroundings. There did not appear to be another entrance nearby and the high windows would not be an easy entry point. If they could secure this one door, they would be ahead of the game.

"We need to block this door," he said scanning the warehouse for a way to accomplish that task. He detected what appeared to be a large cabinet on the sidewall. Ignoring his leg, which was screaming at him, he limped over to the cabinet and slammed his shoulder into the side of it making it skitter a few inches closer to the door. A few more well placed hits repositioned the cabinet in front of the entryway. Once it was in place, he leaned heavily against it, head bowed, trying to catch his breath. "We have …to find… a defendable space," he grunted between gulps of air.

A small glow appeared in the dark and Callen instinctively reached for his gun before remembering that he had dropped it outside.

"Easy . It is just my flashlight."

'Hetty carries a flashlight,' Callen thought. 'In that purse. Of course she would'. He involuntarily groaned as he pushed away from the cabinet on which he had been heavily leaning.

"How badly are you hurt?" Hetty inquired again trying to shine the light on him for a better view. The light swept his lower extremities and even in the semi-darkness, Hetty could see it was not good; blood had already soaked the leg of his jeans. "Oh dear. We need to attend to that before you lose too much blood."

Callen deliberately turned away from her reviewing their surroundings. "What we need is a way out of this mess or nothing else matters. You wouldn't happen to have an extra gun in that handbag of yours?" he asked jokingly.

The light froze. "You lost your gun?"

Callen did not repeat himself.

"First the phone, then the car and now the gun? You have lost a lot property paid for by the hard-working taxpayer!"

"I didn't lose the car," he said matter-of-factly.

"I stand corrected. Lost and damaged. Someone must be fiscally responsible for these actions."

"I'm sorry I lost the gun. It fell out of my hand when the damn bullet ripped through my leg. Dock me for it. Dock me for everything," he said frustrated and in pain.

"Are you able to handle a gun?" Hetty queried with concern as she shone the light on his injured leg again.

"I shoot with my hands not my feet," he replied drily.

Hetty nodded and handed over a gun.

"So you do carry an extra gun?" he said curiously noting she was still holding her original piece.

"I like to be well prepared."

"Except for the cell phone battery."

"Mr. Callen," she said warningly.

"Forget I said anything."

Hammering sounds flooded the night from the other side of the blocked doorway.

"Our company is here. Let's go," Callen said, limping away into the darkness.

The two set out by the dim glow of the flashlight. "What is this place?" Callen wondered, grunting softly as he tried to move at a steady pace across the cavernous darkness.

"An old meat processing plant." Hetty replied. "I worked in one once."

Callen grunted in surprise.

"I did many things in the day," she said matter-of-factly.

"I'll bet you have," he mumbled. "I know, you heard that," he said quickly before she could remind him of her stellar hearing.

There was a loud crash; the doorway was breached. Shots rang out in the darkness.

Hurriedly looking around, she spotted what appeared to be an old meat freezer. "This way," Hetty commanded.

Sturdy solid walls. One way in. One-way out. Defendable? Or a death trap?

"In the freezer," Hetty hissed as another round of bullets ripped through the open bay. Callen returned fire into the gloom and hit someone based on a scream that ripped through the night.

The two NCIS agents hustled through the freezer door securing it from the inside. Silence ensued. Callen leaned heavily against the wall, his leg barely supporting his weight. They strained to hear something, anything that might give them a clue as to what was going on outside.

Suddenly there was a sharp jolt, which shook the floor. Callen's leg buckled and he fell down hitting his head soundly on the cement knocking himself out. Hetty fared better, only falling to her hands and knees though at her age, that smarted too.

"What was that?" Hetty asked no one in particular. She spied Callen on the floor, not moving. She crawled over to the agent's side groping in the darkness to check his pulse. Satisfied it was steady; she painfully rose to her feet. Listening as intently as she could, she heard a small plunk, like the sound of a rock hitting the door.

There was a loud explosion and this time the whole freezer room shook. Hetty was knocked to her knees again.

When things settled, Hetty did another check of Callen's pulse and then sank to the floor next to him. She turned off her flashlight to conserve batteries. They had no cards left in their deck. She could only sit and wait and see what they were dealt next.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

A small moan rose from Callen as he regained consciousness. Hetty, who had tucked the flashlight away took it out and turned it on. "Easy," she advised. Callen, of course, ignored her fighting through the dizziness and pain to prop himself up against the wall.

"Where are we?" he asked looking around dazedly.

"In the freezer."

"Freezer?"

"Yes."

The cobwebs cleared from his head and their situation came flooding back into Callen's awareness. "Was there another explosion?"

"It would seem so. I heard a plunking noise followed by a rather large explosion." Hetty paused to ponder.

"A plunking noise?"

"Yes, rather like grenades."

"They threw grenades at us?"

"I do believe so, but the walls withstood them."

"How long was I out?"

"About an hour."

"What's been going on?"

"Nothing. Quiet as a tomb." Hetty paused. "Perhaps not the best metaphor considering our situation."

"Is there another way out?" Callen asked shakily trying to climb to his feet.

"No."

"And this door?"

"Warped by the explosion. I don't think we will be open it."

Just as Callen achieved total verticality, series of tremors started shaking the building, which quickly became violent quakes. A succession of loud cracking noises was swiftly followed by pieces of the ceiling coming down around them.

"To the corner. It is structurally sounder," Hetty ordered urgently, half-pushing half-dragging Callen along with her.

Callen didn't even stop to think why Hetty would know that fact; he scrambled after her leaving streaks of blood on the pavement. The two hunkered down in the far corner of the freezer as the building slowly began to collapse around them. Callen tried to use his body's stronger frame to shield Hetty from the falling debris. Clouds of chocking, noxious, dust rose up around them bringing visibility to a zero. One final quake knocked the two agents against the all, senseless. An eerie silence settled over the mound of rubble that once was a building and now, as Hetty said, a tomb for the two trapped agents.

Hetty woke up with that old familiar feeling of not knowing exactly where she was. 'My goodness it had been years since she had that feeling' and her mind started to wander off to calculate exactly how many years. 'Stop it,' she commanded her drifting mind. 'This is no time to go batty.' Good training never dies and hers kicked in like a mule. 'First, don't quickly open your eyes all the way. Assess the situation. Try to remember what happened last.'

'Noise. Gunshots. Explosions. Callen. Yes, that was it. She and Agent Callen had been tailed, chased to a warehouse, shot at and then what?' Her mind grew a bit hazy again.

She cracked her eyes and saw slivers of light, sunlight perhaps, dully illuminating her surroundings. There was also something heavy pressing down on her. More memories flooded back. The weight was Agent Callen. He had tried to protect her from, she paused. From what? 'Get it back online Hetty,' she scolded herself. Concentrate. Ah-ha. She had it. He was trying to protect her from the building collapsing around them.

Sensing no immediate danger, she opened her eyes the rest of the way. She was in what use to be a room. Freezer. That was it. Now it was a pile of steel, wood and concrete that had formed a rather 20 x 30 cocoon around her and Agent Callen. Or was it coffin? 'Stop it," she warned her mind. 'Be positive.'

She peered around their prison. The structure looked incredibly unstable, as if built by a three–year-old that had yet mastered the art of Lincoln logs. 'Oh I date myself with that reference,' she thought.

She again became aware of the weight pressing down on her; it was getting uncomfortable. Ah, yes. Mr. Callen trying to protect her from the falling debris. Gallant.

Well enough was enough. Though he might be lean, he was still heavy. Remembering he was injured, Hetty attempted to roll Callen off her as gently as possible. She managed to turn him onto his back though she winced when she realized she had rotated him over his bad leg. Thankfully, he was still too far under to feel it; well at least she hoped that was the case.

The operations manager reexamined her situation now that she was no longer pinned in place. She seemed to be in fairly good shape. A few bumps and bruises but nothing broken, ripped, sprained, or torn as far as she could determine. Well, perhaps not totally correct. Her jacket was ripped. 'Damn. I did so love this suit," she said to the air.

Next, she tried to determine from where the light was coming. It appeared to be sunlight filtering down through the rubble. Good, that meant they were not totally buried and her expectations of a successful rescue rose significantly. Of course, it also meant she had been unconscious for quite a while since it was dark when they entered the warehouse and now it was light.

On the outlying edge of their prison/cocoon there appeared to be a small tunnel that was formed by the peculiar positions of the falling debris. It seemed as if the far end of the tunnel lead to either a much larger area or perhaps a way out?

She carefully picked her way across the floor. Dropping flat to the ground, she inched her way forward into the tunnel. She was well aware that one wrong move might bring the whole works down so she moved slowly and cautiously. She barely had entered a body length into the passageway when she accidentally caught her foot on something. The first warning sign of impending disaster was a thin stream of silt that fell on to her. 'Uh-oh', she thought as she heard the creak and rumble of more debris shifting. Things slid, crumbled, groaned, and moaned. More silt covered her body. The end of her journey to freedom was caused by a beam, which dropped down and pinned her legs to the floor, effectively making her a prisoner in her own escape tunnel.

"Oh swell," she thought. This had gone wonderfully. Unable to move, there was nothing she could do but wait for Callen to regain consciousness and extract her from this situation. 'Boy am I going to get ribbed for this one,' she thought mournfully.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Callen found himself in the familiar situation of having the choice of either waking to what might be excruciating pain or staying in his nice, dark oblivious world. He always said he was going to try oblivion someday, but as usual, it was not going to be today. He slowly opened his eyes and braced himself for what his pain receptors would throw at him. Headache. Not so bad. Definitely bruises, major achy bruises. He shifted his arms slightly. Dusty, but all seemed well there. Left leg, wiggle foot, good to go. Right leg. 'Son of a …,' his brain screamed. There it was; the reason he should have taken oblivion. Waves of pain rippled through his body and his mind wanted no part of it. His brain fought hard to knock him out again but his soul fought just as hard to stay awake. Callen did not like losing a fight to anyone, to include himself. He was not going to allow himself to pass out again. He knew the best way to stay conscious was to concentrate on something else. OK. What was he doing here? He reined in his mind and thought. 'Drinking, driving Hetty home, and being chased. Being shot. Being shot at again and again. Hiding. Explosions.

Hetty! That was what he had to focus on. Hetty. Where was she? Biting on his lower lip, he forced himself into full consciousness. He looked around the area in which he was trapped. There was enough light getting in from somewhere to partially illuminate the surroundings, he noted. Since the area was small, it did not take him long to scan it. On the far wall, he noted that there was something sticking out of the wall, though he was not sure what it was. Grunting in pain he struggled to sit upright.

"Mr. Callen? Is that you? Are you awake?" the familiar voice floated through the air. It took Callen a minute to put it all together. Those things sticking out of the wall were Hetty's feet! Like the wicked witch of the west or east or a deranged gnome. With something important to focus on, Callen was able to compartmentalize his own pain.

"Hetty are you all right?" He grimaced as he slowly crawled across the floor letting out a sigh of relief when he reached her feet.

"I am stuck."

"Stuck?"

"Yes, Mr. Callen. Stuck. Unable to move forward or backwards. Stuck. I realize you are probably not playing with all your faculties at the moment but with your diminished capabilities, I think you can divine the meaning of stuck."

Callen wanted to chuckle at the absurdness of the situation, but he kept it under control. "I get it Hetty. Stuck," he said as he scanned the rubble to determine the best way to get her unstuck. The pile of debris did not look very sturdy and any shift could cause more fragments to rain down on his boss.

Since Hetty was not able to ascertain the mental state of her agent, she decided to keep talking to him, just in case. "You know, you took a very long time to wake up."

"You are always telling me to sleep more."

"True. But one also needs to keep the time and place in mind."

"Uh-hum," Callen replied absentmindedly as he continued to study the wreckage.

"Have you figured out how to extract me yet?"

"Working on it," he replied slowly as a plan formed in his mind. "Are you able to move on your own if I can shift this beam?"

"I think so, though I can't feel much from my legs at the moment."

"Do I want to know how you got stuck in the first place?" Callen asked slightly tweaking the plan in his mind.

"I was trying to rescue us."

"Huh. Well that didn't go very well did it," he returned making one last sweep of the debris pile. There was only one way that he could see that this would work and it was not going to be pleasant. In weight lifting they call it bench pressing. His right leg sent a major pain wave through his body to remind him of its current state. Callen ignored it.

"Ok, here's the plan, I am going to lift and prop up this beam, and then you crawl out backwards." He gritted his teeth and climbed to his feet. Planting his feet as far apart as possible for support, he placed his palms flat against the beam. Steeling himself against the assault of pain he knew was coming, he pushed up with his arms and legs lifting the beam. "Here we go."

With a groan, he pushed harder raising the beam about a foot. He felt the wound on his leg rip open again and blood started running down his leg. He grabbed a piece of wood and propped it under the beam. Between his muscles and the wood he was able to keep the beam raised enough to extract Hetty.

Between Callen's pulling and Hetty's crawling, she emerged back into the room. However, it was not time for celebrating yet because Callen still had to ease the beam back down to the floor without causing an avalanche. Marshalling his will, he pushed back the pain once more, removed the wedge, and slowly lowered the beam to the floor. Carefully he let go and stepped back holding his breath. It seemed like it was going to hold. He let out his breath that he did not realize he was holding with a loud whoosh. He stared at his accomplishment for a minute before lowering his head.

Hetty gradually sat up. "Thank you," she simply said.

Callen acknowledged her gratitude with a small shake of his head as he moved to the nearby wall and slid to the ground, resting his head on his good knee, his bad leg stretched out on the floor in front of him. A small pool of blood started to form on the cement. He wanted to curl up into a ball to try to escape the pain that was pulsing through his body.

"I need to examine that leg," she commanded.

Callen slowly raised his head, eyes raw with pain. A wave of dizziness washed over him and threatened to pull him out to sea like the tide. "Got a tourniquet in that bag? Bandage? Painkillers," he joked, trying not to loss consciousness.

"In fact, I believe I do have those items."

Callen stared at her. "You're kidding me, right? In your purse? All that?"

"And more." Hetty shuffled over to her pocketbook and started rummaging around. "I do not joke about such serious matters. Ah-ha," she said triumphantly pulling out the aforementioned bandage and tourniquet.

"What, no painkiller?" he ribbed.

"Let's see," Hetty said, returning to rummage in her bag. "Ace bandage, Preparation H, arterial clamp, water bottle, chocolate bar, cartridges, sutures, need…, needless things that won't help."

Callen narrowed his eyes. "You were going to say needles weren't you."

"Would I do that to you," she admonished. "I do think we are going to have a problem though. The only pain killer I have, other than plain aspirin, is Vicodin."

"Vicodin is a controlled substance."

"And," Hetty continued ignoring him, "I seem to recall that would not be a good choice for you."

"Not unless you want me to break out in a rash and throw up everywhere, repeatedly."

"Yes. Well. I suppose not. Aspirin it is. Let's get to work on that leg shall we," she said in a tone that almost sounded cheerful. Reaching back into the magic satchel, she withdrew a large pair of shears.

"Whoa, what are you going to do with them?" Callen questioned suspiciously.

"Cut off your pants. Expose the wound," she replied matter-of-factly sniping them in the air for emphasis.

"Then what?"

"Why clean it, disinfect it, and suture it," she mumbled over the last two words.

"Suture, with needles, I don't think so," he replied. "Besides, these are my favorite jeans you are talking about cutting up," he countered, stalling.

"For goodness sake. They are just a pair of old Levis. I'll buy you another pair. May we get on with this?"

"Using the taxpayer's money? You're gonna buy me a new pair of jeans? That doesn't sound ethical. Besides, I am not always thrilled with your selections."

Hetty sat back indignantly. "Mr. Callen, I have impeccable taste in all the clothes I pick out for you to wear to include your trousers."

"You mean like those horrible black ones you made me wear to that fancy club?"

Hetty stared at him aghast. "Are you referring to the Gucci Genius jeans? The ones that cost more than $3000 a pair!"

Without thinking he defensively replied, "They pinched."

"Pinched! Where?"

Realizing he had just wandered down a path he didn't mean to, he stalled. Callen cleared his throat uncomfortably while Hetty sat there waiting for an answer, unblinking, staring at him like an owl.

"They were too, ah, shallow," he finally said haplessly.

"Ah, I see. Perhaps you would have been better served if you had worn briefs, not boxers," she replied like a wise sage.

"Briefs," Callen choked over the word.

"Yes, you know tighty-whiteys."

"I know what briefs are Hetty. I can't believe we are having this conversation."

"Well you started it to avoid having me work on your leg. And besides, it is a well known fact that briefs provide better support and keep things, well, tidy especially in tight jeans."

Callen wished he would pass out. Now.

"If it will make you cooperate, I will gladly buy you a plain pair of Levi's at Wal-Mart when we get out of here. Now can we proceed?"

"Cut away," he replied leaning his head back against the wall knowing there was no more stalling. Hetty was going to get her way. She always got her way.

A few snips, a bit of painful pulling of the denim from where it had stuck to the skin and the wound was exposed. Hetty examined the injury in the dim light. "It seems the bullet went clear through."

"Good," Callen joked to hide his growing discomfort. "At least I won't set off the metal detectors in the airport."

"But I can't rule out that it did not nick anything on the way. If that happened, infection becomes the major risk."

"And you don't have antibiotics in your magic bag Hetty?"

"I do but I would have to administer it with a needle. But you know you are right," she said reaching into her purse again. "We probably should…"

"No way!" he said shrinking away from her.

Hetty smirked but only withdrew a harmless roll of gaze from her bag. She made a pad, which she firmly pressed, against the entry wound. "Would you mind holding this in place?"

"Sure."

"Firmer please."

"Easy for you to say," Callen said thru clenched teeth. However, he pressed harder as requested. Sweat started to run down his face and back.

Hetty opened the pressure bandage package and applied it over the pad, using additional gauze to hold everything in place. As much as she joked with him there was no way she wanted to suture that wound under these conditions. In addition, she did not have any antibiotics in her bag, an oversight on her part she resolved to fix when they got out of this mess. She prayed the bandage would do the trick until they were rescued.

"There. All done," she said. Hetty tidied up, putting all the unused items back into her purse.

"What now," Callen wondered.

"We wait for rescue," Hetty answered.

Callen made another sweep of their prison and concluded she was indeed correct. They could not extract themselves so their only course of action was no action. They had to wait for their fellow NCIS co-workers to find them. He wondered how long that would take.

Wariness over took him as he leaned against the wall of their tomb. Try as he might he could not stay alert and he slipped off into unconsciousness. Hetty sat silently, with vigilance, awaiting rescue.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

When he felt the earthquake in the middle of the night, Eric's first thought was for his beloved playground of toys, otherwise known as the Ops Center. Had it weathered the quake? Was the fact it resided in a 'supposedly' earthquake condemned building a bad omen? Even though he knew the night staff would call if there were an issue, he had to go see himself and in less than 15 minutes, he was out the door.

Kensi also felt the earthquake. However, born and raised in earthquake zones, her response was to snuggle deeper into her blankets and go back to sleep. As long as there was no rubble on her bed, she wasn't worried.

When Sam felt the earthquake, he immediately got out of bed. He surveyed his house and then out into the neighborhood to make sure there was no serious damage. Upon returning inside, he flipped on the news to see how the rest of the city faired. Fully awake, he made himself some breakfast and then decided to head into work early; based on the news reports with the power issues, traffic lights out and other road problems, he thought earlier would be better.

Nine o'clock rolled around and Kensi finally made it in to work. "It's a mess out there," she said to Sam who was scanning the paper at his desk.

"That is why I came in early," Sam replied, flipping the page. "I even had time to stop and get some doughnuts."

A retort was on the tip of her tongue when she spotted the full box of doughnuts sitting by the coffee machine. It was not picked over as was the usual case by the time she got in, it was full! She almost started drooling over the pristine, untouched selection. There had to be something wrong. By this time of day, the box usually looked like a group of three-year-olds had attacked it.

"Is Eric here Sam?" Kensi queried as she moved over to the doughnut box.

Before Sam could reply, Eric poked his head over the railing. "II am here and in case anyone is interested, other than a light bulb burning out, the Ops Center survived the earthquake with no damage. I did a complete diagnostic." Having made his important announcement, Eric turned and headed back into the bat cave.

"Ah a boy and his toys,' chuckled Sam.

Kensi chuckled. Well that explained why Eric had not been in the doughnuts yet. He was too busy with his babies upstairs. She debated which of the luscious goodies to pick. "And Callen?" she said offhandedly.

Sam put down the paper. "Not yet. Held up in traffic I guess," he replied as he looked down the corridor towards the door… again.

Kensi noted his preoccupation. "Did Callen have something to do this morning?"

"Not that I know."

"And Deeks?"

"Phoned in. Running late." Traffic," Sam snorted.

"Huh." Kensi finally made her selection, one for each hand and wandered back to her desk. Sam picked up the paper again. Both sat in silent contemplation, one chowing down and one pretending to read.

About forty-five minutes later, Eric popped out of the Ops room again, down the stairs and into the bullpen. "Do you guys know where Hetty is? I need her to sign off on this paperwork."

Sam, who had switched from pretending to read the paper to pretending to read his email, looked up. "For what?"

"A light bulb."

"A light bulb?" Sam repeated.

"It is a critical light bulb," Eric said seriously.

Kensi queried, "Isn't Hetty in her office?"

"Ah no, or I wouldn't be asking," Eric snorted

Sam looked at Kensi. "Callen."

"And Hetty," she added

"Both missing," Sam concluded.

"Didn't Callen drive Hetty home last night?" Eric pointed out.

"Indeed he did." Sam took out his cell phone and dialed Callen again. Still no answer. Next, he tried Hetty's and got the same result.

"Eric, find their phones," Sam commanded.

"On it," he said flying up the stairs with Sam and Kensi hot on his heels.

A few keystrokes later Eric announced, "Hetty's GPS in her cell phone is not responding at all. Callen's on the other hand is here," he said bringing up a map on the screen. "Huh, that is the address of the club where we are last night."

Sam gave a quick nod. "Kensi, take Deeks and check it out."

"Check what out?" Deeks said strolling through the door. "Did you guys notice the earthquake last night?"

"Been there. Done that. Hetty and Callen are missing. Come on," Kensi said moving past Deeks and out the door.

"Missing," he said turning on his heel and following her out.

"What about the GPS in Callen's car?" Sam asked.

"Already on it," Eric said fingers flying over the keyboard. "Nope. No signal," he said spinning his chair around to face Sam.

"Ok. So the last time anyone saw them was leaving the club last night. Callen was driving Hetty home. Find cameras in the area. See if you can track them."

"On it Sam."

Sam left Eric to his tasks and headed down to his desk in the bullpen, debating his next move. Should he call Director Vance? Maybe it was too soon. Hetty or Callen would not appreciate having to explain to Director Vance that nothing was wrong but Sam's overactive imagination. But then again if something was really wrong. Could it be related to the earthquake? Sam sighed in frustration. He decided he would wait to see what Kensi and Deeks found at the club first before making any calls.

Up in Ops, Eric was trying his best to track down the car, but the earthquake had done some damage to the region. Power was out, lines were down, cameras offline, and all these things were hampering his search efforts. It didn't help that Sam kept popping into the room with an expectant look on his face and Eric could only shake his head no.

It was well after midday when Kensi and Deeks returned from the club to report that Hetty's car was still sitting where it had died and a worker in the club found Callen's phone last night while cleaning up. Kensi and Deeks did not feel there was any deception going on so they took the phone, thanked the manager, and made arraignments to have Hetty's car towed to a garage. Dead ends all around.

Eric's search was not yielding much more. After he finally managed to get into the traffic cam archives around 4:00 pm, a freak thunderstorm came through and took down his access. He was using a number of imaginative adjectives to describe the city's power grid when he felt a hand on his shoulder, which caused him to jump. A quick glance revealed it was only Sam who must have slipped in during his tirade.

"I have nothing Sam. NOT A THING," he repeated.

"It's OK Eric. You'll find them," Sam said calmly

"The traffic cams were designed by a bunch of yahoos who are stuck in a never ending loop, who think Java is a coffee product, who think Grace Hopper is an organic chef, who think…"

"It's Ok Eric," Sam repeated.

"…Eniac is a sports drink, who thinks Pascal is a floor cleaner, who think..."

Sam spun Eric around and gently but firmly placed his two hands on Eric's shoulders. "It is OK. Take a deep breath. Relax." Sam's warm brown eyes stared into Eric's, willing him to calm down. After a few minutes, Sam slowly spun Eric around to face his keyboard. "Now, have at it." Sam gave him a final pat on the shoulder. Sam walked confidently from the Ops Center but once out of sight, slowed his steps and let his shoulders slump. Fifteen hours and counting since they had last seen Hetty and Callen and they were making no progress forward.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Hetty tracked the course of the sun throughout the day using it as an imperfect clock. Of course, she could also have looked at her watch, but this at least gave her something to do other than sit and wait. She was certain it was late afternoon when Callen regained consciousness. She watched as his bleary blue eyes crack open, trying to focus and make sense of the world around him. She lay what she hoped was a comforting hand on his shoulder, hoping to ease his transition back into this world. When she observed awareness and remembrance register in his eyes she chose to speak. "Welcome back Mr. Callen."

His eyes flickered and focused on her. A slightly smile crossed his lips. "Don't you have us rescued yet?" he whispered.

"Alas, I do not."

Callen tried to move and grimaced. Stiff and sore didn't even begin to cover how he felt. Run over by a truck, hit by a train, those felt closer to the truth. His eyes trailed downward and over to his injured leg.

"The bleeding has stopped," Hetty said with an open-ended sentence.

"But," Callen prompted.

"I fear infection has set in. You are running a temperature."

Callen did not have to think to know she was right. He was hot, very hot. Glancing at his watch, he noted it was 4:00 pm. They had been missing more than 15 hours. The sun disappeared and shadows overtook their prison. The air took on a heavy quality and the little light filtering through the rubble turned an eerie shade of grey-green.

"Bugger," Hetty said.

Callen smiled faintly. Her English roots were showing. "What?"

"I fear we are about to get rain. A thunder storm in fact. I have a weather wrist and it is never wrong."

"A weather wrist?"

"Yes. I broke my left wrist dancing with… well never mind who… but ever since then I can predict when it is going to rain."

Sure enough, the faint rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance. It wasn't long before the first patter of raindrops hit the floor of their cell. Unfortunately, the same holes that let light filter down into their tomb also let in the rain, soaking the two agents.

At first Callen enjoyed the cool raindrops on his fevered skin. However, as time drone on and the rain continued to come down, he found himself shivering. When the rain finally stopped, darkness had permanently set in and the temperature dropped. They entered into their second night in the concrete prison. Both knew the odds of a night rescue were slim so they had to hang on until the sun rose again. The fever and chill took its toll on Callen and Hetty watched as he slid back into unconsciousness. Blood lost, dehydration, infection. These were the enemies Callen faced now, and she was powerless to do anything. The only thing she could do was support by moving closer to his good side and providing whatever warmth and prayers.

Day 2 started and ended about the same. No luck. Eric only had partial success in his search. He was finally able to track Callen's car to a point, but not it final destination. "As near as I can tell they were headed for the old warehouse area south of Blake Street. Lots of old buildings in that area, little renovation. Low rents but you wouldn't want to live there."

"Any idea why they would head there?" Sam asked the team gathered in Ops.

"Well based on the data, they were heading in the general direction of Hetty's house until roughly here," Eric said pulling up a map. "Then the pattern gets erratic and the last time I can find the car is here."

Studying the pattern that went from straight forward to a zigzag Kensi ventured, "It looks like Callen started taking evasive actions, like they were being tailed or chased."

"Eric?" Sam said.

"Give me a few." Eric's fingers flew over the keyboard. Footage appeared on his screen, flashed away only to be replaced by more footage. The rest of the team stood around the Ops room, each one fidgeting in their own manner.

"Ok," Eric said after what felt like an eternity. "It appears this SUV here," he said pulling an image up on the screen, may have been following them. It is dark, but it does appear a number of times in the last footage.

"Can you…" Sam started.

"No read on plate or occupants. Sorry Sam," Eric shrugged apologetically.

All eyes in the Ops Center turned to Sam. Hetty was gone. Callen was gone. That left him, Sam in charge. 'Lucky me', he thought.

"Marty, reach out to LAPD. See if they have anything that might be useful. Eric, monitor the rest of the airwaves, see if anyone is reporting anything unusual. Kensi, with me. We have to update Director Vance."

At least they were doing something Sam thought to himself as he and Kensi went to Hetty's office to call the Director. Whether it was the right something who knew, but at least it was something.

Day two of Hetty and Callen's entrapment was drawing to a close and it certainly had its moments. The day began with Hetty and Callen realizing that they were not going to be immediately rescued. Hetty, more mentally aware than the injured Callen, started thinking about a survival plan. Dehydration was a major concern, especially for Callen who was injured and had lost a lot of blood. She started routing around in her purse.

"Got the Bat Signal in there?" Callen quipped as he watched Hetty rummaging.

Hetty lifted her head looking over at G. "Oh goody, you're awake. " Hetty paused a moment. "I'm sorry; do I have what in my purse?"

"The Bat Signal. You know that light-thingy that they signal Batman and Robin with when there is trouble."

"Sorry to disappoint, but alas no Bat Signal. I do however have a bottle of water, a bar of chocolate and granola bar, low fat," she stated pulling the aforementioned items from her bag one by one.

Callen thought a moment. "You know, I really do not get women and this obsession with chocolate. Do you know Kensi made me sign up to get a Godiva rewards card so she can get an another free piece of chocolate each month!"

"Really?"

"Yep. Every month she drags me to the Sunset Mall with her and I have to stand around and wait while she hems and haws trying to make up her mind. When it is buy one, get one free," he shuddered.

"I see."

"And it's not like she ever offers me any. No way. She hordes it like it is gold."

"You could buy yourself some."

Callen considered that then shook his head. "I'm pretty sure she'd take it from me."

"Don't tell Ms. Blythe I said so, but one on one I think you could take her."

"Not if there is chocolate involved."

"Would you like to try it?"

"Huh?"

"Godiva chocolate. Would you like to try it," she repeated revealing the cover on the chocolate bar from her purse. Godiva's Dark Chocolate Mint Bar, the large size.

Callen groaned. "You too."

"Me too, only I had not thought to coerce my co-workers into getting me free chocolate."

"I think Sam is still available," Callen offered helpful.

"I'll make a note of that."

"You do that, only promise me, when you ask the big guy, please let me be there."

"How about I make it a team building exercise? Going to the mall to buy Godiva chocolate as a team. Kensi gets your free chocolate, I get Sam's…"

"What about Eric and Deeks?"

"Oh bother. Well they will just have to work out something themselves."

Callen smiled playing the scenario over in his mind. Hetty held the bar out to Callen but he shook his head no.

"You have to eat," she said turning serious. "All that aspirin you are taking on an empty stomach is going to cause an ulcer."

Callen turned away.

Sighing, Hetty dropped the bar back into her purse and held the water bottle out instead. "You have to drink. That is an order."

Callen turned his head to stare at her but he did not reach for the water bottle.

"Do not push me on this one Callen. Not only can I lead a horse to water, but I am strong enough to shove its' head in the water and hold it there until it drinks. To I make myself clear?"

Dropping his stare, he reached for the bottle. "Crystal," he said. Unscrewing the cap, he took two swigs and then paused. An odd expression crossed his face and he quickly recapped the bottle and handed it back to Hetty.

"That is not enough," she scolded.

Callen closed his eyes, leaned his head back against the wall, gritted his teeth, and swallowed a couple of times, hard. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he conducted an internal struggle to keep the water in his stomach. Hetty watched concern carved all over her face. This was not a good sign.

After a while, Callen's face finally relaxed and it appeared he had won the internal battle. He weakly opened eyes and looking over at her.

"I don't suppose I could interest you in a low fat granola bar?"

Callen smiled weakly.

She reached out and patted his hand. "Their coming dear. Soon."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"Sam, you are going to want to see this," Eric shouted over the railing to the floor below. Sam shed his weariness and bolted up the stairs to the Ops room.

"What do you have," Sam asked impatiently. Kensi and Deeks entered the room and waited for Eric to enlighten them.

"Well, I have been scanning the all the bands and came up with something interesting. Remember the last place we were able to track Callen's car? It was heading into the old warehouse district."

"Yeah, yeah get on with it," Sam said impatiently.

"Right. LAPD is reporting some sort on incident at an abandon meat packing plant in that district. Something about explosions and a demolished warehouse. It is a long shot Sam."

"But the only one we got. Eric, keep monitoring. Kensi, Deeks with me," he said as he strode out of the room and prayed this was the break they needed.

The black Challenger sped through the streets of LA with every occupant praying this was the end of their search. "Update Eric," Sam barked into his phone.

"LAPD is on the scene. The place is a real mess. The building has totally collapsed. They are not sending anyone in, too dangerous."

"Did you tell them about our people?"

"Roger that but they said no way they are risking anyone until there is proof that there are people in that mess. It is too much of a Jenga to risk the rescue workers lives without evidence."

"Damn," Sam swore. "We'll be there in 10. Out."

At the conclusion of the conversation, Deeks yanked out his cell, searched his contacts and then dialed. "Hank? Marty. Look we think we have some people trapped in a building. Can you bring your team? Uh-huh. Pretty much. Nope. Great. Owe you. I'll text you the address." He hung up and quickly sent the address of the warehouse out over the airwaves. "Hank and his team are on the way to assist."

"Why would this team go in when others won't?" asked Kensi with curiosity from the front seat of the speeding car.

"You mean Buddy and Jake? They go where no man has gone before."

Kensi quirked an eyebrow at him. "You didn't answer the question."

Deeks grinned. He always enjoyed irking Kensi. "They're search and rescue dogs. I know their handler, Hank. Buddy is the lead dog and Jake is the pup in training. Hank and Buddy have done phenomenal work finding people. If Callen and Hetty are in that collapsed building, this team will find them. Then we have the proof needed to send the rescue teams into the building."

"Do we need a scented item from Callen and Hetty?" Sam asked, his mind whirling to think of what they could use.

"Nope. This isn't like hunting for a fugitive. These dogs are trained to find any human in rubble," Deeks explained.

Sam voice dialed. "Eric, tell LAPD we have SAR dogs on the way and to get a rescue team ready ASAP," Sam commanded.

"Done."

The occupants of the Challenger fell silent and remained that way until they reached the site. Driving into the parking lot, for the first time since they ran out of the Ops Center, the team changed their mind about hoping this was where their friends would be found. The warehouse was nothing more than a mile long pile of rubble. How could anyone be alive under all that debris? If Callen and Hetty were in this building when it collapsed, how could they have survived?

The car came to a stop and they all piled out heading towards the police officer who appeared to be in charge. They quickly identified themselves and brought him up to speed on the incoming SAR dogs. The officer nodded along even though he already heard this already from Eric. These folks were nervous, he got it. He'd be too if it were his people possibly in this situation.

Within 45 minutes, a blue 4x4 pulled into the parking lot. An older man departed the cab and upon seeing Deeks headed his way.

"Marty," the tall, rangy man wearing a cowboy hat called out.

"Hank," Deeks returned. The two men embraced and clapped each other on the back. "Long time no see."

"Yeah, been busy. You're lucky to catch me in town. Been doing a lot of international support," Hank drawled. "What's the situation?"

Sam interjected himself into the conversation. "My name is Sam Hanna."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"We're missing two of our agents. One male, one female. We have reason to believe they are in that building. But as you can see, it is not in good condition and we cannot send the rescue team in unless we have proof that there are actually people inside."

"And that is where me and the boys come in," Hank said gazing at the building and scratching the stubble on his jaw. "Don't look too good," he said turning back to look at the team. He could almost feel the defeat radiating from them. "But," he added, "Ya never know. Let me and the boys take a look."

They walked as a group over to the 4x4. Hank opened the tailgate to reveal two large crates, each containing a dog. Both dogs moved to the front of their cages upon seeing their master, tails thumping on the side of the plastic.

"Hi boys. We got some work to do. Sorry Jake but this is Buddy's show," Hank said as he opened the latch and clipped a leash on the collar of one dog. Upon command, the German Shepherd leapt from the back of the vehicle nimbly onto the ground. "Buddy here is my main dog. Jake is in training. Situations like this we need Buddy's experience." Jake, seeing he was not selected lay down and whined his discontentment.

Hank and Buddy headed for the massive pile of rubble. They stopped about 20 feet short of the mess. "This is going to take a while," Hank said eyeing the sun as it started its' decent. Hank worked Buddy over the football field pile of rubble stopping every 30 minutes to give Buddy a break. In three hours, they had only gone through maybe one-third of the building. The rescue team had left to take other calls, promising to be back when something was confirmed.

"This is taking forever," Sam groused during one of the breaks. "Can we take out the other dog too? I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but this is…"

"Taking a long time," Hank broke in. "And you're right. Normally something this massive would require multiple teams. Unfortunately, Jake is too inexperienced for something this big. If there was some way to narrow the search." Hank paused for a beat. "Hey Deeks. Wouldn't happen to have a layout of this place in all your electronic gadgets?"

Sam immediately got on the phone to Eric. "Schematic of building. Now."

"On its way to your phone," Eric replied as he sent the file. He also pulled it up on the big screen in the Ops Center.

Hank squinted at the small picture on the phone. "Kinda hard to make it out," he mumbled. He turned his wizened gaze back on the warehouse, studying the way the debris laid. He thought he detected a variation in the northwest section of the building. "Sam, ask the lad if there is anything special or unusual in the northwest section of the building, say what might have been 300 feet from the corner."

"Heard that and checking… there seems to be a room there… zooming in... ah it was a freezer, meat freezer to be exact. Maybe 20 x 30."

"Would make sense. Freezer is gonna be built solid. Might withstand something like a quake. I suggest we refocus there. He and Buddy padded up to the building where with a signal, Hank sent Buddy back into the rubble. The NCIS team watched as Buddy carefully picked his way in and around the debris. Darkness was descending and time seemed to stand still again.

Suddenly, two deep barks rang out.

"Is that good?" Kensi asked breathlessly.

Deeks nodded his head. "Yeah, Buddy's signaling that he has found something by barking."

"So Buddy's found them. Is that what you're telling me," Sam demanded excitedly.

Deeks looked warily at Sam. "Buddy has found the scent of a human," he said.

Sam had a sinking feeling. "But?"

"But," Hank said joining them. "Can't tell if the person Buddy scented is alive. You see Buddy is also a cadaver dog. He locates dead bodies as well as living and to him, they smell the same. At this point, the best I can tell you is Buddy has found someone in that rubble but whether dead or alive," Hank could only shrug his shoulders helplessly.

Total darkness had overtaken the site. Sam and Hank flipped on the lights on their vehicles, as did the lone remaining police car. Sam went over to talk to the police officer. The two of them got on the phone and even from the distance; Kensi and Deeks could see it was not a good conversation. Hank put Buddy up in the 4 x 4 before rejoining Kensi and Deeks. Finally, Sam started walking back towards them as the police cruiser pulled out and left. Sam stopped halfway back and had another intense argument on the phone. Eventually, he hung that call up too looking frustrated and upset. They looked at him expectantly when he finally joined them.

"We're done here," he stated flatly, emotion adding a razor sharp edge to his words.

"What?" Kensi exclaimed.

Sam held up a hand to silence their comments.

"LAPD will not send a rescue team until first light,"

"That's bullsh…" Deeks started but Sam cut him off.

"And Director Vance agrees. It is too risky to send people in there, in the dark, especially since we cannot confirm if whoever is in there is even alive. We wait,' he added dejectedly.

Hank could see the disappointment in the team's eyes but he had to say, "I know you do not want to hear this, but it is the right call. I'm mighty sorry."

Sam walked over and clasped Hank's hand. "Don't get us wrong. We appreciate everything you and Buddy did. Sorry if we seem ungrateful."

"Heck no, I'd feel the same if it were my buddies in there. But I know if it were me in there, I would not want someone risking their life to try to save me under such unsafe conditions. I know, if your folks are in their, they'd fell the same."

Sam nodded while staring into the darkness. "You're right Hank. They wouldn't advocate risking more lives for theirs."

Hank nodded shook hands all around, gave Marty a firm clap on the back, then climbed back into his truck, and drove off.

The rest of the team stood there for a few more minutes. "I guess we should head back. The rescue team will be here at first light. Until then…" Sam left his voice trail off.

"I feel like we are abandoning them," Kensi said

"If it is them," Marty added which earned him dirty looks from Kensi and Sam. "Hey, I am trying to keep it real. We do not actually know it is them. I mean if it is them, where is the car?"

That was a good point. They had been so wrapped up in the dogs and the search, no one thought to look around the building for the car Callen had been driving. Sam threw open the trunk to the black Challenger and dug around until he found a few flashlights. Cautiously, the team set out to circle the perimeter of the large pile of debris. It wasn't until they were three quarters of the way around that they spotted something.

"This looks like another entrance to the building, another parking area," Kensi said sweeping the flashlight's beam across the blacktop. "And here, skid marks?"

It was hard to tell but the marks seem to go straight up to the building. They concentrated their beams on the rubble directly a long side of the skid marks. Was that a piece of a bumper gleaming in the darkness? Sam handed his flashlight to Kensi, went over, and started moving pieces of the fallen building, trying to uncover more of whatever was underneath. Marty handed his light over to and joined Sam. Moving some of the debris, they discovered what appeared to be a passenger's door. It was silver, with bullet holes in it and...

"Is that blood Sam?" Kensi said training the flashlight beams on the dark red streak on the door panel. Sam stepped in for a closer look when suddenly there was a grinding noise, like metal on metal.

"Watch out Sam," Marty yelled flinging himself at the larger man knocking him backwards. The two went down in a pile rolling away from the side of the car, which saved their lives as a big piece of metal slid down to land in the spot they had just vacated. Had they not moved they would have been squashed .Shaken, the two men slowly climbed to their feet.

"This is too dangerous man," Marty said, his voice rough with emotion. "We have to wait until morning." Sam nodded in concurrence.

"I was able to glimpse a bit in the car," Kensi said as she joined them. "I am pretty sure it was Callen's car, those were bullet holes, that was blood and the car was empty. Wherever they are it is not in that car."

They all turned their eyes back towards the collapsed building. Morning could not come fast enough.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The sun was on the wane again and the air was taking on a chill.

'Oh goody', Hetty thought to herself. "I must be going batty. I thought I heard a dog bark." She swung her gaze upon G who was awake again. She was determined not to ask him how he felt since that is what she did all day long every time he woke. She was sure she had a good idea how he felt and there was no sense aggravating him, again, by asking.

Callen pushed himself up a bit higher on the wall, grimacing as he jarred his leg. He took a few deep breaths to steady the pain before glancing over at Hetty.

"You're awake," she said stating the obvious.

A few minutes went by before Callen asked, "Aren't you going to ask how I feel?"

"Do you want me to ask you how you feel?" she returned.

"Well, it might be nice, sort of show you care."

"I do care"

"You do care?"

"Yes, of course, that is why I am not asking," Hetty replied.

"So if caring is not asking, what is not caring?"

"Asking," she said succinctly.

Callen ran a weary hand over his face. "You know Hetty, if I didn't have a headache before, I do now.

"Perhaps you have a concussion."

"That isn't the point. The point is we're having another stupid conversation. For the last two days we have had nothing but inane conversations."

"What would you prefer to talk about? Paris in the springtime? The latest reviews in Guns & Weapons for Law Enforcement Magazine? Foreign policy in the Middle East? Heritage teas?

Callen leaned his head back against the wall and rolled his eyes. Hetty's studious stare dissolved into a smile. "I was trying to avoid asking you for the ninety-ninth time how you felt when you woke up," she confessed.

"And I appreciate that Hetty. For the record, I feel as crappy now as I did the last ninety-eight times you asked, but thanks." He paused a second before asking, "By any chance did you hear a dog bark?"

Hetty startled ever so slightly. "In fact, I thought I did but I chalked it up to me going a little batty in here."

"I won't deny that," Callen muttered under his breath.

"I heard that."

Callen smirked then turned serious as he stared up into the debris imprisoning them. "It's getting dark again."

"Yes, it is."

"Help is not coming," his voice despondent.

"Not tonight, no."

"It's getting harder Hetty," he whispered slumping against the wall.

"What is?"

"Waking up. "

Hetty moved to Callen's side. "You're a fighter Mr. Callen."

The injured man closed his eyes and sighed wearily. "Don't you ever get tired? Want to give up?"

"That is the pain, blood loss, dehydration, and mental confusion talking. That is not you! That is not G Callen," she replied shaking a finger at Callen.

"Whatever you say Boss."

Hetty held out the water bottle. "Drink." However, it was too late, he had already drifted off.

Day passed into night and back again; day three. Hetty woke to see the sunlight filtering back into their tomb again and she was grateful for the warmth it offered. Callen lay still on the far end of their little prison. The temperature had dropped again at night and she had moved closer to him and offer her body's warmth and some old fashion human comfort. However, at some point in the night, he managed to move away from her almost as if to reject her offer. Was he that damaged from childhood, that untrusting that even in his deepest levels of unconsciousness he could not accept the comfort of another human being? It made her sad to think that his upbringing had scarred him that badly. A curse and blessing at the same time; his background made him a great operative; his background left him a broken man.

She moved across the floor and tried to wake Callen but he only came partially to the surface, dazed and confused before sinking back under again. Reaching two, slightly bent fingers out towards his unshaven neck, she checked his pulse. It was weak. She brushed her fingertips across his forehead to check his temperature, though there was really no need; she could feel the heat radiating off his skin indicating the infection raged on. She tried again to wake him and force him to drink some water, but most of it splattered, with little making it down his throat. He moaned and Hetty prayed with all her might rescue would arrive soon.

Sam, Kensi, and Deeks went back to the office to await first light. None of them even pretended to try to sleep rather they sat around watching the clock tick ever so slowly. At one point Sam had Eric check what time the sun was officially suppose to rise so they could be at the site at the precise moment when it was dawn. When the sun rose and the black Challenger was there in the parking lot to greet it.

It took most of the day to remove the rubble. Sam yelled, pleaded, ranted raved, moaned, groaned, but the construction workers knew what they were doing, did it well, and wouldn't be rushed. Rushing meant mistakes and mistakes meant death. Sam understood but this sitting around and waiting was killing him. Kensi and Deeks were not holding up any better. Their coping mechanism was to take it out on each other moving from one inane subject and argument to another. At one point Sam, considered locking them both in the trunk just to get away from them. Finally, they were ready to send the rescue workers into the area where Buddy had indicated there were humans. Time, which had crawled to a stop suddenly, leapt forward.

"There are people here. One Caucasian male. One Caucasian female. Both alive."

There was a flurry of activity but eventually Hetty and Callen lay on gurneys.

"Hetty!"

"Sam."

Sam reached out and took Hetty's hand. They gazed over at Callen who lay unresponsive. "He's tough Mr. Hanna. He'll be OK."

"And you?"

"I'm a tough bird too."

"Yes you are," Sam muttered.

"I heard that."

Sam grinned, gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and then let them load her in the ambulance.

"See you in a bit."

"You do that. And oh Mr. Hanna. Please do not speed. You have enough tickets."

"Whatever you say Boss."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Callen limped back into the bullpen to the good wishes of his various co-workers. Of course he had released himself from the hospital before the Doctors wanted, went home alone, managed to stay there for one day before deciding he could heal just as well at office; none of this surprised his team.

He was the one who was surprised when he got to his desk and spied a wrapped present on the middle of it.

"Who left that here?" he asked pointing to the box as if it was an offensive object.

Sam looked up from typing his report. "Dunno."

Kensi glanced up from her lunch. "No clue," she muttered around her sub.

Callen turned to Marty who raised his hands and said, "Not me. I don't do gifts."

"You don't suppose it is a bomb?" Callen queried as he sat down behind his desk and poked a finger at it.

"Nope," answered Sam.

"So you do know who put it there," Callen accused.

"Yep and I am not saying," the big man grinned.

Callen poked at it again with a suspicious finger.

"Just open it already," Kensi admonished.

Callen quirked an eyebrow at her, gave it a few more pokes, just to be annoying, and then started to carefully pull the paper away from one corner.

"Oh for goodness sakes," Kensi said, crossing over to his desk, taking the package forcibly from him and ripping the paper off. "Here, she said thrusting the denuded box back at him.

"Ah, thanks?"

"You're welcome. Open it," she growled.

Callen set the box on his desk and carefully lifted the lid. "Huh," he muttered setting the top, which said Wal-Mart. Tissue paper still hid the contents. He folded back the tissue paper and lifted the item out of the box. It was a pair of jeans, Levi's to be exact. A smile crept across his face.

"I keep my promises Mr. Callen," Hetty said silently gliding around the corner, as was her norm. "And there is more," she indicated gesturing towards the box.

Callen laid the jeans on the desk and peered back into the box. A flush crept up his neck and quickly covered his cheeks. He grabbed the lid and slammed it back on the box.

"Hey," Kensi said indignantly. "What gives? What else is in there?"

Callen sprang from his desk, shoved the box under his arm, grabbed the jeans, and limped off toward the locker room.

"Mr. Callen," Hetty called after him. "I couldn't recall what the final verdict was, boxers, or briefs." Callen's shoulders hunched even further as he slunk from the room.

Kensi, Sam, and Marty stared at her.

"What?" she said innocently. "We were trapped for three days in a tomb. We talked about a great many things."

"Hetty!" came an ominous growl from the distance.

"Some of which are confidential and won't be discussed further," she said clamping her mouth closed like a clam. Hetty glided over to where a bemused Sam stood. "It's briefs isn't it Mr. Hanna?"

"Who me?" he squeaked.

Hetty gave him a withering look. "Of course not you. Everyone knows you are a boxer boy. I meant Mr. Callen. Isn't he a tighty-whitey."

Marty and Kensi snickered. "Oh I wouldn't snicker Mr. Deeks considering you like to go commando and you Ms. Blythe are a thong girl at heart." The team just stared at her. "What," she defended herself. "Do I not dress you all? Do you not think I happen to notice what you do, or don't as the case may be, wear as undergarments."

She had them there. Sam cleared his throat. "Briefs," he whispered. "G wears briefs," he finished looking thoroughly embarrassed.

"Ah-huh. I should have gone with my gut. Oh Mr. Callen," she called wandering off after him. "I can exchange the boxers. Now do you prefer classic, mid-rise, or sport briefs?"

"I hope I NEVER get stuck anywhere with Hetty," Sam said gazing after the retreating woman's back. Kensi and Deeks nodded their concurrence and then went back to work.

Eric wandered down the stairs to the bullpen and IPad in his hands. "Did I miss something?"

"No," said Sam sitting back down at this desk.

"Well, it was only something 'brief'," replied Marty.

"I think it was Deeks who is 'missing' something," Kensi tossed back.

"Why don't you stop 'boxing' around the subject Sam and tell Eric," Marty said. Sam and Kensi groaned. "All right, I admit, it was a stretch. But all the good ones were used up."

Eric stood there looking perplexed.

"Never mind. Eric did you find anything?"

"Unfortunately, no. I have no idea who was chasing Hetty and Callen or why. Dead ends all around."

"Huh. Well knowing Callen, it will raise it ugly head again sometime." The rest of the time nodded their head in concurrence. Eric turned and headed back up to Ops. Kensi watched as he bounced up the stairs. "Boxers or briefs?" she wondered aloud.

"Under-roos," supplied Marty.

"Bathing suit," Sam returned.

Kensi nodded "Point to Sam," Marty conceded.

As they settled back around there desks, a thought crossed their collective minds. Only one person they had not considered.

"Pure silk, of course" the disembodied voice of Hetty sang out.

Silence settled over the bullpen; no one was going to touch that one.


End file.
